


The Path to Glory

by Gay_as_fuck



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, POV Minor Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Gay_as_fuck
Summary: Being born into power is easy. Fighting for it however is hard work. Iago grovels, fights, and claws his way into his position and Nohr's streets run red with blood. (This is the climax, everything else is fallout.)





	The Path to Glory

**Author's Note:**

> so one of my pals by the name of maja loves this dude and got me onto enjoying his character! so this is to them !

On the day of King Garon's first wedding, a child rushes through the city streets, ducking behind cloaks and skirts. He doesn’t stop to look at the procession it seems he’s racing against. To anyone, he seemed to be just a poor boy racing to catch a glimpse of the king and queen.

A sticky bun was clutched in his grubby hands, slim fingers almost breaking into the soft dough. It was a warm treat vendors sold- full of cherry paste and given friendly designs for children to delight over. For the wedding that particular vendor had made them all crowns with honey covering the top.

It’s stolen of course- that’s why the child is running. He’d spent the last week planning for this day. The crowds were larger than he had expected and absolutely perfect for him to slip between. Those buns were coveted by all the child thieves in Windmire, and they were safely guarded by those who sold them.

The boy was not as quick or strong as the others, but he was far more clever. During the cold winter mornings they had rushed up as fast as they could or tried to beat the treats out of the owners, none of it had worked.

The boy thought for a moment of sharing the treat with his mother, a performer who was waiting at home and preparing for the post-parade show. She had always told him who he was- a son of royalty. The king’s brother had loved her once and they had a child together. A bastard, however, had no to claim to any throne or title.

Before that moment those conflicting ideas had been a paradox to him. How could one boy be the son of royalty yet not above the other children of the street? He had always considered himself better than they were and now he had more proof.

He was the son of a prince and best of the thieves- there was nothing greater than him. He stopped running, took a large bite out of the crown and looked up.

King Garon sat on horseback with his wife by his side. Their steeds were dark as the cloudless night sky. King Garon wore a heavy crown of gold with crimson jewels pushed into the sides. He smiled and waved his hands, pulling them from inside of a fur cloak that had not matted or wore down.

New, the boy noted in shock. This was power and wealth and he had known nothing of it. He had imagined himself a king for a moment with his crown of pastry and raggedy clothes. The realization came to him then, one far too large for his young mind; blood means nothing.

A line of cherry filling dribbles down his chin and yet his mouth tasted sour with want. 

\---

He went to the anniversary parades for years until there is no more queen and no more celebrations. He watches for the royalty who pass, even smaller nobles fill in the ranks behind the king and queen.

The children bicker among themselves over those nobles, in bright colors and the symbols of their house adorned on every dress, cloak, or saddle bag. The younger children do not realize that the bright symbols are more bark than bite.

If one has to proclaim they have power, then they don’t really have it. One child wants to be the Duke of the outerlands, another child points at a lord who rules over the woods of the forlorn and claims that’s who he wants to be.

None of the children point at the king or queen, though the could. Dreams of being lords are impossible from the perspective of street urchins but they still cling to those hopes. The king and queen, real and powerful royalty who don’t need symbols or bright colors to show their power? Impossible.

The boy, who isn’t much of a boy anymore by the time queen Katrina is dead, pointed to the king in his head under his breath he muttered to himself.

“Him.” 

He watched the crown prince just as he watched the king, perhaps he watched the fair-haired child even closer.

The day prince Xander had been born all the bells in the city had chimed at the same moment drowning everything in sound. He was born into the role of hero for a story he had never known about. Destined for greatness, that was what they had said about Xander.

On his third time watching Xander be paraded along with his mother the boy had another revelation; Blood is everything.

Every king needs a good name and Xander calls forward power just as Garon does- but perhaps that is just due to their power. There are children on the street named Xander who walked a little taller when the baby was announced. 

The boy takes the name of an old king, one whose name he’s only heard through hushed voices. A cruel king with a name that somehow became a curse generations after he’s gone. 

He picks a name with power and decides that King Iago sounds as if the very gods crafted it themselves.

\---

He did not come forward until after the inner castle wars were a year done. When he came to the castle he wore bright wool which scratched at his skin but made him seem to be someone important. 

The guards at the gate frowned when they saw him. They crossed their spears in front of the castle gate and demanded his entry.

“Who are you?” One of them asked with a growl.

“I am the blood of the dead prince Nicholas. His bastard son.” The guard who had spoken eyed his partner through the eye holes of his mask. 

“Why are you here?” The first guard asked with the growl gone from his voice.

“I am simply here to assist my country.” Both guards shared a look that time, their eyebrows furrowed at the comment.

“You don’t want to be an heir?” The first guard asked again and lifted his spear slightly. The second guard did not yield his position.

“No. I simply wish to help serve the brother of my father.” The first guard threw another glance at his friend and lifted his spear a little further up.

“What are you doing?” The second guard hissed and forced his companion’s spear down with his own. He then turned his attention to Iago and raised one of his eyebrows. “How do we know you’re not lying. You look like a lunatic with that outfit.” 

Iago brushed the comment off as best he could and made a personal decision to screw the guard over the next chance he got.

“I have the royal ability,” Iago smirked, the ace up his sleeve. “I can’t find them- I’m not pure blood of course. I can use them- and I happen to know that there’s one in the throne room.” The last statement was common knowledge which failed to impress the guards as much as the first statement.

“Before we let you in, just confirm one thing. What is it exactly you want? No vague statements- nothing like that.” 

“I want to advise the king in court.” Iago smiled his best pleasant smile while wanting so much more. The guards lifted their spears simultaneously and flanked Iago’s sides. 

“What is your name?” The first guard who was now on his left asked. 

“Iago,” He answered and the man cringed. 

\---

The king did not speak his name like a curse. The words filled his mouth as if it were a prayer to cruel gods. Queen Arete sat beside the king and stared down Iago just as her husband was. 

“I am here to offer my service to you my king and kin of my kin.” He decreed as he prostrated himself before the man he wanted to be. Iago ground his teeth, he was surrounded by wealth and yet there was nothing he could do. 

“Why should my brother’s bastard serve me?” The king asked and tilted his head to the left with a small laugh. 

“I want to follow in the footsteps of my father and serve the crown,”lie. “I have no ambition but to assist you,” lie. “I do not want to be king,” the biggest lie of all. 

Garon laughed at that and Arete did as well. Hers was a cruel snicker to Garon’s belly laugh which carried no mirth.

“How can I be sure you are really my brother’s son? The word of some slut and her money grubbing son.”

“I can use the dragon vein I can not see them but I can use them.” Garon gave a huff at that and pointed to an ornate rug in the center of the room.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. There’s your dragon vein go do what you can.” Iago stepped forward and onto the circle pattern on the rug. He couldn’t see the sparkling glow that royals claimed to view but he did feel a power overwhelm him.

Kneeling Iago set his hands on the ground and closed his eyes, focusing all his power. Something cracked and he did not look up. The room rumbled and something hot burst forth from the ground yet still he did not look up. 

“ You are powerful, but that dragon vein does not serve that purpose. I suppose no matter what you try the results will be the same.” Arete commented and Iago turned to see what he had done. Lava had burst forth from the ground and covered the entrance. One guard was half melted with blood boiling on the hot rocks. The other guard was shocked, his face pale. 

“You have proved yourself to be my brother’s son. I will allow you to join the court.” Garon ordered after laughing in a way that would have sent shivers down anyone else’s spine. 

Tapestries of ancient royals and fierce battles burned behind Iago as he smiled and took the first step towards his ghastly greatness.


End file.
